29 Hours
by BellaSarah
Summary: 29 hours is a long time to be in a car with someone you're wildly attracted to...
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** 29 Hours

**Author:** BellaSarah ( BellaSarah241)

**Rating:** T (may be subject to change)

**Disclaimer:** Not mine obvs

**Summary:** 29 hours is a long time to spend in a car with someone you're attracted to…

**Spoilers:** Through "Contingency"

**Notes:** This is my first POI fic and, like many, the idea of Reese and Carter on a road trip amuses me with the numerous (yummy) possibilities. Here are a few, however unlikely.

**Hour 13**

"Reese, if that dog doesn't stop panting in my ear I swear to you…." Carter crossed her arms over her chest in a huff as she let her statement finish itself. They'd been in the car for 13 hours. The sun had long ago set and the only things visible were the lights of the vehicles around them.

Reese uttered a phrase to the Belgian Malinois who immediately collapsed with a canine whine in the back seat. She slid her gaze over to him reluctantly, his patrician features rendered in stark relief under the green glow of the dash lights. She was struck again by how truly handsome he was. Such a contrast to the vagabond she'd met months ago.

"Was that German?" she asked, her brows drawing up. The man was full of surprises.

"Dutch."

"How many other languages do you know?"

"Several."

"Really?"

"Yes."

His mouth twitched ever so slightly at her sound of exasperation and she knew that he was purposely being obtuse. Sometimes it was hard to tell with his damned dry sense of humor. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I have been in this car for 13 hours, Reese. 13. And we're not even halfway freaking there. You owe me conversation."

"Do I?"

"_Yes_!"

"And here I thought we were playing 20 Questions."

She narrowed her eyes at him again and again his mouth twitched.

"I'm on to you, you little buttmunch. Now you _are_ going to play 20 Questions."

"Am I?"

"I will shoot you."

"Question 1," he said, throwing her an amused glance of acquiescence.

"What languages do you speak?"

"English, French, German, Spanish, Mandarin Chinese, Arabic, Persian, Turkish, Greek, Latin, Russian, Pashto, and I can understand Hebrew and Kurdish."

"So only about…" she did a quick count on her fingers. "Fourteen? Psh, child's play."

"Oh and pig latin, Klingon, and Elvish."

"Elvish."

"Yup."

"You are so full of it."

"Am I?"

"John Reese, I swear to all that's holy…"

"Okay, okay, okay. You're right. Let's play. Continue."

"What's your middle name?"

"John. Three?"

She sensed that he was sensitive to the probing and decided to tread lightly for now.

"Favorite superhero growing up?"

"Incredible Hulk."

"Really? Why?"

"Because the monster was within him and only he could control it. Five."

"Wait…four."

"Five. Follow-ups count."

"Cheater. Favorite flower?"

"Flowers, Carter?"

"Who's asking the questions here? Answer."

"Japanese peonies."

"Japanese peonies," she repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief.

"What? They're beautiful and exotic and they smell…"

"They smell….?" Carter prompted, biting the inside of her cheek.

"Pretty," he said grudgingly with a scowl.

She tried. She really tried hard not to laugh but she still found herself doubled over laughing so hard that no sound escaped even as tears of mirth rolled down her cheeks. A man like Reese, calm, cool, disturbingly in control liking Japanese peonies because they smelled "pretty" was just too much for her.

"You done yet?"

"Okay," she managed, sucking in a deep breath and wiping her eyes. "Okay. Favorite color?"

"Really? Are we going to braid each other's hair next?"

"You don't have enough or we might. Answer the question."

"Green. Seven."

"Name of the first girl you kissed?"

"Maryanne Marshall."

"Aw you remember!"

"Of course I do. What kind of man do you think I am?"

"How old were you?"

"Eleven."

"Wow, making your moves early, John," she said, raking her eyes over him suggestively. He smirked.

"She was cute with long blonde hair and a purple bow. Always a purple bow. I had to take my chances before Tommy Ortega beat me to it."

"Tommy Ortega. That little punk," she said, startling a laugh out of him. It was very rare to get a full-fledged laugh from him.

"Exactly."

"Favorite sport to play?"

"Basketball."

"Favorite sport to watch?"

"College football."

"What do you hate most in the world?"

"Bullies."

"What do you love most?"

"Love."

She cocked her head, studying him. She wanted to say that she didn't see him having a soft side but the fact was she did. John Reese was a killer. He was ruthless. He could take a life without second thought. But that wasn't who he was. He wasn't a monster. Whether he liked it or not, and she had no doubt that if he knew he'd _hate_ it, she could see glimpses of the man he was deep inside. A man he probably forgot he was. Or maybe one he tried to deny being.

"Thirteen," he prompted gruffly, shifting uncomfortably under her stare as he kept his own plastered to the road ahead of them.

"Favorite book?"

"Two, actually. We Were Soldiers Once…And Young and The Diary of Anne Frank."

"We Were Soldiers I get. Anne Frank surprises me."

"My first non-fiction book growing up. I just kept thinking how sad and tragic it was that the Nazis were allowed to tear away the identity of a people. When I joined the military, and in the things I've done in the scope of that service, Anne was always in the back of my head. Reminding me that there're two sides to every war. Did the Nazi soldiers understand the scope of what they were doing? Not Hitler, but his actual boots on the ground. Did they get it? Would I get it in their place? Would I try to stop it? Or would I just follow orders like a good soldier?"

Carter shifted slightly in her seat understanding exactly what he was saying. She'd had those thoughts too. Hell, she'd venture to guess most military service members had.

"You know exactly what I mean," he said so softly that she almost didn't hear him over the road noise. "That knowledge is something we'll have to carry forever."

"Do you regret it?"

"I regret giving away my humanity. My chance at life. All for something I'm not even sure I believe in anymore. I have literally nothing to show for my life."

"John…"

"Fifteen," he interrupted quietly, effectively shutting the door on that topic.

Carter sighed, her heart heavy. Did he really feel he had nothing to live for? She had her mom and Taylor but how would she feel if they were gone? She wanted to hold him. To help him feel _something_. To show him that he had a reason to go on. No wonder he had formed such an unlikely bond to Finch. Finch had given him purpose, a meaning, a reason. Without Finch and their mission, in John's eyes he went back to having nothing. The thought literally sent chills down her arms. They had to find Finch and they had to find him alive. She might not agree with their methods but she knew they were trying to do something right and good. She couldn't allow that to be taken away from this man.

"Fifteen," he prompted again, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Oh right. Uhhh…Dogs or cats?"

He glanced over the back seat at the gently snoring Bear and then looked at her, amused.

"Dogs. Obviously."

"Music?"

"Most kinds. Not country. Grew up listening to hair bands. Now I usually just go for mellow unless Finch is playing some sort of classical stuff."

"Play any instruments?"

"Yes."

"What? And no fair, you're stealing my question count."

"It was a yes or no question. I answered fairly. Guitar and piano. It's been years though."

"Favorite childhood memory?"

"The Christmas I got a bb gun."

A pause spread between them as she waited for him to tell her the story and he stubbornly refused to budge.

"You're really not going to tell me the story."

"Nope. That's not your question."

"You really are a pain in my ass, you know that?"

"You don't really seem to mind. Last question. Make it a good one."

"Boxers or briefs?" she asked, a wicked grin forming on her mouth. He almost visibly jerked as he whipped his head toward her. "I'm waiting, John."

"You really want to know?"

"I asked didn't I?"

"Commando."


	2. Hour 14

**Note: **So sorry for the long delay in posting! My daughter and I have both been under the weather and honestly, this was like pulling teeth. Thank you so, so much for all the reviews, follows, and favorites. They drive me to write more, better, and often. I'm new to the world of POI so any mistakes are mine. I'm trying to get them all rewatched so I don't screw anything up! Now that this is officially waaay off script, I'm sure you won't mind if I have a little fun with these two. I hope you enjoy!

**Hour 14**

Carter's ears buzzed. Had he really just gone there?

"Commando," she parroted, incredulity in her voice, her brow cocked. He gave her a negligent, one-shoulder shrug.

"Hey, you asked."

"I think you're full of it."

"Only one way to find out. You know?" His voice was lower, his blue eyes inexplicably dark as he gazed at her.

"Now I _know_ you're full of it," she retorted with a snort of disbelief. He was totally playing her, had probably lied about the languages too. Had to be. There was no way he'd turned that dark look—wanton, really—at her like he wanted to gobble her up. He was a master of deception. She shouldn't forget who she was dealing with. Even if the thought of his naked, tight little ass in those suit pants did make her want to swallow her tongue (and him) whole.

"Maybe, maybe not. Now it's my turn."

"Your turn to what?"

"I get my 20 questions."

"You know everything about me! Don't think I don't know it. I've been with you and Mr. Wizard long enough to know how you work. You probably know me better than _I_ do." Her look practically dared him to disagree.

"I know the basics. The facts. But I don't know what makes Jocelyn Carter—Joss."

"And why would you care about that?"

"Why do you think?"

"Because you like to know what motivates your assets and enemies. It gives you the upper hand."

Even though she knew the statement to be true, she didn't understand why he looked stricken and why she suddenly felt horrible for putting that look on his face. He only saw her as a means to an end, didn't he? Sure, they'd formed a fledgling friendship over the past few months. They joked; she was getting comfortable with him, trusting him but she'd known many like him in the Army. People who were focused on the end prize. They were okay with casual acquaintance but the bonds of friendship never deepened so that they could be easily cut when the time came.

There were moments of kinship, sure. Flashes of what true friendship with him might be like but she'd made those mistakes before. She'd been the one easily cut away from people she considered friends. She knew she was meant to walk alone and she was okay with that. She knew John felt the same and understood. That's where the…feeling, for lack of better word, came from when she was around him, wasn't it? True understanding and respect from like recognizing like?

Silence stretched between them as she searched for an explanation. Or at least something to say to make it right. She had offended him, maybe even hurt him, and she just wasn't okay with that. She was confused by what was between them, by the feelings it was stirring up, and it made her feel off kilter. She would never purposely insult him or hurt him, though. He didn't deserve that and certainly not from her. She owed him everything—her life, her son's life.

"John," she started, her voice scratchy with unreconciled emotions.

"It's okay, Carter. I deserved that."

"No, John, you didn't and I'm sorry. I didn't mean that hatefully. I just feel very…," she searched for the word.

"Unbalanced."

"_Yes_."

"Me too. You're a little unexpected for me, Joss. I'm not really sure what to do with you."

"Tell me," she agreed.

"I've forgotten," he said quietly, "what it's like to have friends and to trust and to have a connection to the world. Sometimes I wonder if it's too late for that."

"You have people who care, John. Me. Finch. Even Fusco. You're a good man. Honorable. And maybe you've forgotten how to live with that connection but you seem to be cultivating it just fine."

"I don't want to be responsible for hurting you."

"_Hurting_ me? John, you've saved my life how many times? And Taylor's? Even when I was trying to take you down, you had my best interest at heart. I don't think you're capable of hurting me."

That realization rocked her, probably more than it did him. He was ruthless, cold, succinct in his brutality but when it came to her, he was loyal to a fault. He'd take care of her regardless of whether it meant his demise. How had that happened? Why did she inspire that in him? She didn't know what to do with that, how to react.

"You're not capable of hurting me," she said again. "Why, John? After all I've done to you, why in the _hell_ would you protect me?"

"Because you're good. Your nature is fundamentally good. You seek justice and you don't compromise or bend even in the face of adversity. Your moral compass never wanders. The world needs you. _I_ need you. And I can't explain that and I know it sounds crazy but it's true. You restore in me a faith I'd lost. You are the personification for all I thought I stood for. And maybe, just maybe, if you exist and you're real then all the things I did in the name of God and country weren't for nothing."

She was stunned by his impassioned words, so out of character for the man who usually said so little. She was deeply moved by his honesty and his ability to be so open with his thoughts. He'd always been that way with her even when he knew she wouldn't like it. He was becoming quite the enigma to her.

"Favorite color?" he asked gruffly, interrupting her reeling thoughts.

"Yellow."

"Why?"

"Because it's sunny."

"Favorite flower?"

"We gonna paint each other's nails, John?" she teased, trying to break the melancholia that swept through the car.

"Could be fun," he replied doing that almost imperceptible head tilt of his. "Answer?"

"Daisies."

"Why?"

"I dunno."

"You don't know why you like daisies?"

"Well, it's not cuz they smell pretty," she retorted.

"Well played, Joss. Then why?"

"Because they're so happy I guess."

"Favorite thing to do?"

"Sleep?"

"Okay, when you're not sleep-deprived."

"Anything outside, really. I think I'd like to try white-water rafting."

"Really?" His surprise was evident.

"Why does that surprise you?"

"I just don't see you as a nature girl, I guess."

"What do you see me as?"

"City-dwelling detective mom?"

"I'm from Georgia. I grew up outdoors."

"Perfect first date?" he asked rather slyly.

"Stranger or known quantity?"

"Known quantity."

"Hmmm. It's not really the activity but the connection. I want to converse and laugh and feel connected to that person."

"Does a 29 hour car ride count as a date?"

"Isn't that like a phase 3 step?"

"Phase 3? It's been a while since I've dated."

"Phase 1 is casual dating. Phase 2 is sleeping over. Phase 3 is the step right before you realize there is no turning back."

"Sounds terrifying."

"Isn't it? Probably means I'm stuck with you, Cujo, and Mr. Wizard for life," she grumped.

"Probably. Would that be so bad?"

"I'll let you know."

"Why did you go to law school?"

"Know about that, huh?"

"Yep."

"When I got back, I didn't know what I wanted to do. I had drive, I was a good investigator so I thought—prosecutor."

"Why didn't you follow through?"

"Because I learned in court that the law isn't about the black and white and the carrying out of justice. It's the nuances and the shades of gray—manipulations and loopholes. The bad guy doesn't always get punished and the good guy doesn't always win. I wasn't okay with that."

"So why law enforcement?"

"Because if I do my job right, it can be black and white and about justice. It doesn't always happen that way but I try. When I submit my report, it's predicated in fact. I know that I've done my absolute best to find out the truth and nothing can ever change that. Even if the courts don't rule in our favor, I did everything I could to represent the victim and bring them justice."

"And that's it."

"What's it?"

"The reason you and I will always be connected."

"I thought Finch was the reason."

"No, Finch brought us all together and for that I will always be grateful but this _thing_ I feel has grown beyond that. At the risk of sounding like a complete jackass, I feel like…" still he hesitated.

"…our souls recognize each other," she said quietly.

"Yeah. Why doesn't that feel crazy?"

"I don't know. I guess it makes sense."

"Really?"

"Sure. We've had similar experiences, share the same fundamental beliefs, seek the same thing."

"Even if our methods are sometimes polar opposites," he said with an amused grin.

"Uh yeah. You need to stop blowing shit up and knee-capping people."

"But it's so fun, Joss," he whined. She gave him her best disapproving glare before they grinned at each other, things right between them once again.

AN: Special thanks to Amy and Jez for listening to me whine and spaz!


End file.
